


The Sport of Kings

by glasgow_blue



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasgow_blue/pseuds/glasgow_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://monaboyd.livejournal.com/792288.html">Rules were devised. A point system was developed.</a> </p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sport of Kings

Title: The Sport of Kings  
Word Count: 1100  
Disclaimer: I am still making this shit up.  
Summary: [Rules were devised. A point system was developed.](http://monaboyd.livejournal.com/792288.html)   
Archive: Please ask.

_With thanks to Susan and Kelly, for beta-work above and beyond the call of duty._

It began long ago and far away in a magical land, as is the case with most legendary things. No one can point to the moment of inception and, naturally, each of the principal players has their own version of the tale. Time and distance have further clouded the waters, but the truth is that the origin of the game was dubious from the very start.

If you were to ask Dominic, Pooka is derived from a moment at a street fair in Auckland wherein he purchased a shell bracelet from a vendor, only to have it purloined from his very own pocket three days later by one William Boyd, Thief Extraordinaire. Said thief contradicts this by insisting that he was given the bracelet by Elijah (who had acquired it by questionable measures in a bar on the South Island) then dropped it at said fair, thus giving Dom a chance to claim it. Therefore, any subsequent repatriation of the Pooka was both righteous and necessary. Few knew it, but the trinket originally belonged to Bloom, who should never be over-looked when it comes to nefarious schemes; but that is neither here nor there.

The game was afoot. Rules were devised. A point system was developed. Allegedly non-partisan judges were elected. And, soon, Pooka was declared the National Pastime of Middle Earth.

You know the story.

What you don't know is that the Pooka left New Zealand in Dom's possession--a feat that required intense planning, collusion on the part of at least two fellow cast members, and the last minute bribing of a taxi driver named Reuben. It remained with Dom for three glorious months, during which he wore it openly and without fear of reprisal.

When Billy came to visit, Dom spent days prior choosing and dismissing any number of hiding places around the flat. This was tricky business; Rule No. 41 clearly states that the Pooka "may be placed in a secure location, but must not be made unobtainable via means of restriction--be they physical (locks, concrete, guard dogs) or morally objectionable (rotten veg, swallowed, wrapped in yesterday's socks).

He'd finally settled on the unimaginative and stashed it as far under the mattress as he could reach. Nightly checks found the Pooka safe and sound and Dom began to wonder if he'd actually pulled it off. Could it really be that easy? Naturally, he was crushed when, upon return from dropping Billy at the airport, he found it replaced by a manky reuben sandwich and a note:

_Rule No. 112: You can brag about obtaining the Pooka, but it's only going to hurt more when Billy takes it back._

While shooting in Mexico, Billy chose to hide the Pooka in plain sight on the wrist of one Russell Crowe. Being a sporting sort of fellow, Russell offered to relinquish it to Dom if (and only if) he could manage to best him in a feat of strength.

It would be an insult to Dom's character to imply that such a challenge went unmet, but the truth of it is that he took one look at that barrel chest and those bulging biceps and placed a call to Sir Ian McKellen, requesting binding arbitration regarding the legality of Billy's actions.

From this, Rule No. 115 emerged: Only nancy-boys use large friends to guard the Pooka.

It was followed immediately with No. 116: Only nancy-boys call in the big guns when they are too chicken to face a challenge.

Dom was rewarded sole custody for the duration of the visit. He also placed a call to Elijah to insure that note of the incident was made in the Official Record (which can best be described as a communally curated scrap book that started out as a boosted copy of the There and Back Again prop and quickly grew to be a four volume set). There is an addendum stating just how sore-ish a loser William Boyd really is. Had Twitter existed at the time, Dom surely would have told the world.

It’s hard to keep the spirit of Pooka alive when playing the game over long distances, as much of the sport to be had lies in flaunting the bracelet while in your possession. To combat this, Dom took to staging interesting photos of the Pooka and emailing them to Billy. Once, he even Photoshopped it onto the Queen. Billy, though, is more of a traditionalist and answered by sending postcards from the Pooka's adventures. Most were of pubs in Glasgow, but there was a memorable set of drunken haikus composed on holiday in Madrid.

_Spanish bulls breathe_  
Crimson wine and dusty sighs  
Do your socks still smell? 

Billy’s first trip to Hawaii was a whirlwind of surf, sand, sun, and, of course, beer. By Dom’s reckoning, the Pooka changed hands an unparalleled sixteen times over the course of that week. Some were brilliant, some mundane. One or two were just plain luck. It seems the latter was most likely the case when Dom found the Pooka hanging idly from a shampoo bottle after a late night of booze and sandcastles, but he insisted on summoning the Keeper of the Record and making note of it anyway. Elijah’s response is now legendary among Pookonians.

_Dude, that was totally a pity Pooka._

Rule No. 122 The Keeper of the Record shall refrain from editorial comments, upon pain of death.

It was suggested that a temporary suspension of Pooka be invoked during Billy’s wedding out of respect for the Bride, but Ali would have none of it. Consequently, the bracelet was snatched deftly from Dom’s wrist at the rehearsal dinner and placed with great ceremony onto the arm of wee Jack Boyd, who proved to be as cunning a foe as his father when it comes to these things. Dom offered everything from sweets, to cash, to a pony, but Jack would not budge. He thought he’d finally made headway after getting the boy to agree to mail it to him in trade for a set of personalized Mickey Mouse ears, but the following text message exchange crushed him once more.

 _Bills: The exploitation of children is illegal in 36 countries. Including Scotland._  
Bills: Also, perhaps it was unwise to ask the five-year-old to mail a suspicious package.  
Dominic: Mommy was supposed to help with that part.  
Missus: Mommy wants nothing to do with your wretched attempts to reclaim past glories.  
Dominic: I’ll be having those ears back, thanks.

Rule No. 137: Beware the Scots, for they are wily, fiendish, and they stick together.


End file.
